Deep in the forest, the five young martial artists pursued the scent of blood, but the cunning tiger demon swept the ground with its tail, erasing its tracks.

By a small stream, the trail vanished completely.

A handsome young man in white spat on the ground. “That sly beast! We’ve chased it for two days, and it still slipped away.”

“If we’d caught that tiger demon, wouldn’t we have outshone the other disciples?”

Save for the robust leader, the others wore dejected expressions. Even the usually aloof Third Miss Li’s eyes flickered with regret.

To hunt this tiger demon, Baolin Martial Hall had sent several teams, led by elite inner disciples, with the rest being top outer disciples.

Before leaving, their master had declared: whoever claimed the tiger’s bones could train under the hall master for three days, receiving direct transmission of true techniques.

On the surface, it was a hunt.

In secret, it was a competition.

The victor would not only train with the hall master but also earn a chance to become an inner disciple.

Yet anyone could see this trial was a feast prepared for a certain someone.

After all, the trial’s venue was the Li Family Mine.

Amid the group’s gloom, only the robust youth stretched lazily. “No matter. It took my arrow—it won’t live long. Just a bit more legwork.”

Where there are people, there’s a hierarchy, even in a group of five.

Though Wan Yuxuan was the youngest, as an inner disciple, he naturally led this small hunting team.

Hearing his words, the handsome youth hurried forward. “Of course! Senior Brother Wan’s archery is top-tier in Forty-Nine City. What’s a mere tiger demon before you?”

The flattery was blunt, and though the others inwardly scoffed, they echoed agreement.

Only Third Miss Li, her brow slightly furrowed, stayed silent.

With the tiger demon lost, they lit a campfire and pulled out some flatbreads to roast.

The white-clad youth, Jiang Jingyu, gnawed a dry flatbread, grumbling, “Should’ve hacked off that bear paw earlier. Could’ve roasted it now!”

Another scoffed, “Jiang Jingyu, that bear was hunted by those rickshaw pullers. Would Baolin Martial Hall disciples stoop to stealing?”

Jiang Jingyu faltered, about to retort, when he saw Third Miss Li pull something from her pocket. His face lit up. “Senior Sister Li, always so generous!”

Third Miss Li casually produced a portion of cured demon beast meat, breaking it into pieces to share.

Her lavish gesture sparked envy among the group—worthy of the Li Family, courted even by the hall master.

Martial hall disciples came from decent families, but compared to the Li Family, with its vast mine, they fell short.

Jiang Jingyu eagerly chewed the demon meat, then recalled earlier events, asking curiously, “Senior Brother Wan, why give that bear heart to the rickshaw puller?”

To him, the bear heart, though not priceless, could boost vitality. Giving it to a shabby puller was a waste.

Wan Yuxuan popped a piece of demon meat in his mouth, chewing slowly before asking, “Jiang Jingyu, what stance did you train when you started?”

Jiang Jingyu blinked. “The Eight Extremes Stance, naturally.”

“How long did it take you to break the vitality gate?”

“Three months at fifteen!” Jiang Jingyu’s face showed pride. Breaking the vitality gate at fifteen, entering Baolin Martial Hall at seventeen to reach the ninth rank, and now, at twenty-two, achieving minor success in the ninth rank—such progress was notable even among outer disciples.

Wan Yuxuan chuckled, clapping his hands, a playful smile spreading. “Guess how long that big rickshaw puller trained his stance?”

Jiang Jingyu frowned. “Didn’t he say just over two months? And he’s training that common Four-Square stance—how can it compare to our hall’s Eight Extremes?”

He stopped mid-sentence, his voice turning incredulous. “Senior Brother Wan, you mean that kid’s already…?”

Wan Yuxuan stood, nodding casually. “If I’m not mistaken, that big puller’s broken the vitality gate.”

The words stunned the disciples.

Two months, with just the basic Four-Square stance, and he broke the vitality gate?

This shabbily dressed puller didn’t look like he could afford vitality tonics.

Did that mean, without medicinal aid, he surpassed Jiang Jingyu’s speed?

Even Third Miss Li’s icy face showed a trace of astonishment.

Such talent was rare even among Baolin’s outer disciples!

Jiang Jingyu faltered, unconvinced. “So what? Starting martial arts at his age, his path’s a dead end. Even ninth rank’s a stretch.”

The group felt better at that.

As martial hall prodigies, it’d be absurd if a random puller outshone them.

Wan Yuxuan said nothing, but his mind replayed that intriguing scene.

His master taught that the martial path boiled down to one word: courage.

Spirit-driven courage, like thunder and fire bursting from the chest, was “qi courage.”

Blood-forged courage, rooted in veins, not will, was “blood courage.”

Facing danger with an unshaken face and a steady spirit was “bone courage.”

This world had many with false qi courage, and even blood courage was rare.

But that big puller, meticulous and unshaken before a tiger demon, showed traces of bone courage.

If his master saw, he’d surely praise such martial valor.

This was why Wan Yuxuan, outwardly dull but inwardly proud, regarded the lowly puller differently.

As for breaking the vitality gate in two months—compared to that rare bone courage, it was nothing.

But Jiang Jingyu wasn’t wrong.

So what if he had talent? He was just a puller.

Starting martial arts at this age, without tonics, what future could he have once his bones set by twenty?

As a Wan Family heir, rising in Baolin Martial Hall, Wan Yuxuan had long grasped an unshakable truth:

This world brimmed with gifted commoners.

But in the end, it belonged to the noble families!

The disciples searched the forest again but found no trace.

Amid their high-flying pursuit, they spotted the winding convoy again. From the deep ruts, it was returning from the mine camp.

Leading it was still that young, big puller.

The group had no intention of stopping, but Third Miss Li, recalling Jiang Jingyu’s words, glanced at Xiangzi a few times.

Just a few glances, nothing more.

After all, he was merely a lowly puller.